Series of Mysteries
by Sharon Holmes
Summary: Who is Moriarty? What is his plan? Sherlock, Irene and Watson investigate and work together to find out the many questions that need to be answered. Action, drama, romance and mystery included! Sherlock/Irene Sherene and Watson/Mary. T for future stuff.
1. Guilty Innocence

**This is my first fan fiction ever posted on here! I've done a few fan fictions but I decided to post this one since my muse for Sherlock Holmes is very high, and I have formed a rather love and/or obsession for it. This is going to feature Moriarty (the smart and devious man whom I am interested in learning about and showing, in my own view of him.)  
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** I would also like to credit a good friend, Jess! This fan fiction is based on a role-play we are doing and she makes an awesome Sherlock! While I am Irene. So, credit to my friend Jess as well!  
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**Please review and let me know what you think =) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes, or any of the characters. **

The cold air followed Sherlock inside 221B Baker Street as he quickly made his way inside, pulling his coat tighter upon him to keep warm from the cold air that hit him outside and on the way in. December was upon them, and the weather was cold and the clouds that hovered over the city for the passed few days didn't help. By the looks of things, Holmes guessed the clouds would share a few snow flurries here and there, but only to create puddles and nothing more.

Within a mille second of walking in, he slammed the door shut and made his way up the stairs, not bothering to reply to Mrs. Hudson's complaint about always slamming the door. When Watson moved out, Mrs. Hudson had stayed behind; something Holmes and Mrs. Hudson weren't to happy about, seeing as they didn't get along to well because of the arguing and the bit of a dislike for one another, but they lived with it, as best as they could.

Already up the first few steps of the stairs, Holmes made his way up the last part, only to come to a halt right before his door. _I have a visitor. _Thought Holmes closing his eyes as he took in the scent that had diffused into the building, something which he noticed when walking in but did not make much of it until he got to his door, where the scent was twice as strong. The scent he smelled was of Parisian perfume, a scent he knew very well; a scent which belonged to someone he knew.

A second more after taking in the scent, he grabbed the doorknob and turned it, slowly opening the door and stepping in, a small smirk placed on his face as he saw a woman standing at the other side of the room, staring out the window. Sherlock stared upon her figure, studying the clothes she wore. She had on a pair of nice black slacks, accompanied by a long sleeved white blouse, similar to the one she wore when they last saw each other. Over the white blouse was that same gray in the front, maroon in the back, button up vest.

Irene Adler was standing in the shadows, away from the light, and because of this, her clothes were partially hidden along with her face, as if she was hiding something. Her hand slowly moved up to grab the top of her shirt, near the collar, to lightly tug it up a bit more, as if concealing or covering up something. The shadows were a perfect place to stay should feel the need to hide anything.

"I thought it might be you; your perfume had already diffused itself throughout the building." He told her, taking off his black hat, before following with his coat. "How long have you been here? No longer than an hour if my guess is right." He added, holding his coat and hat in one arm, staring at his guest.

"You're guess is right, Sherlock." Irene replied to him, the corner of her lips curling up to create a smile.

"How nice of you to drop by, Irene." He said to her, a bit of sarcasm present in his tone. "What a coincidence that I was just in your rooms at the Grand. Apparently, the neighbors thought they heard a bit of commotion, which consisted of shouting and glass breaking. Scotland Yard sent over a uniform to investigate but he found nothing amiss." Sherlock informed her. "Perhaps the neighbor may have over-exaggerated or perhaps was drunk, maybe even a cat got in." He sarcastically guessed, following it with a light shrug. "But how fortunate of me to find you here." Sherlock finished. Irene's hotel room at the Grand was where Sherlock had been before arriving back home, mostly because he wanted to investigate the 'commotion' himself to see if he could find anything of interest.

"Ah, yes. Well, that commotion is over with. Nothing too big." She replied, pushing that subject aside.

"How long has it been? A week? Maybe two?" She asked, her eyes staring upon him.

"It's been nine and a half days to be exact. I assume those handcuffs were not of any inconvenience to you?" He assumed, seeing as she wasn't in jail and all.

"No, they were not a problem at all; what with you dropping the key down my shirt and all." She told him, the smile a bit more teasing. "And I see you've been counting the days. You must have missed me, just like I said." Irene added.

"Hm. Possibly." He calmly replied, glancing around to see if anything was different, or missing. One can't be too careful when in the presence of Miss Irene Adler; especially when one is out-smarted more than once by the famous criminal.

"I'm just glad I wasn't naked, which I have yet to apologize to you for," She told him, the smile not yet disappearing.

"Yes, I did make it rather easy for you than you did for me." He replied, a bit of regret in his voice from making it so easy, but that's how he wanted it.

"How was it, by the way? Being naked and handcuffed? Did you enjoy it?" Irene teased him, finding it a bit amusing.

"My 'adventure' with the handcuffs was a bit hard to remember. I was drugged, in case you don't remember, and it was a bit breezy if I remember correctly." Sherlock answered, not really wanting to remember that, but he knew she would've brought it up sooner or later.

"I see." She mumbled, before continuing with that subject. "I found it funny that when I got back to the hotel room, the maid complained to me about a naked man in my bed…trying to seduce her. I merely told her you tried to break in so I handcuffed you as self-defense, and she believed me." Irene told him, letting out a small laugh.

Hearing her laugh about it, he let out a small scoff. "I see. I suppose I understand the drugging and handcuffing, a bit, but I feel I have to ask," He paused before going on, "why did you feel the need, to strip me of my clothing?" He curiously asked. Something he had always wanted to know.

"Ah, that. Well, I knew you'd have a tough time escaping, being drugged and handcuffed, but I knew it'd be even tougher, and more of a challenge if I stripped you." Irene explained to him, before raising an eyebrow. "If you think I did it for 'other' purposes, you are wrong. Besides, you only gave me two choices of where to go; the train station or the police station. Neither which suited my likes." She finished answering. "I did feel bad about it, but then I remembered I kissed you before you passed out, so that should make up for it."

"Yes, well, just because we had differing opinions doesn't give you that right, and as for the kiss, I was drugged, so I don't remember much of it but it's done with, can't do anything about it now." He told her. "But I'm surprised they continue to let you stay at the Grand, what with all the trouble you seem to bring. A man breaking in; and you handcuff him to the bed. A scuffle occurs that scares the neighbors. Really Irene, it's quite rude of you." He told her, arms crossing over his chest.

"I am not causing any trouble actually. You are the one who tried, but failed, to break into my hotel room. Had you not done that, I would not have handcuffed you. As for the scuffle, they broke in. Is it my fault so many men are after me?" Irene teasingly told him, giving him a small wink.

"Yes, well as to why they are after you, there is the obvious reason of your beauty, but on the other hand could it be because you leave trouble in your wake with alarming regularity?" He replied to her.

"Trouble? You mean by my thievery and trickery? Possibly. Or maybe you aren't the only one I've handcuffed naked to a bed." Irene told him, the teasing tone remaining, but Sherlock truly was the only man she has ever done that to, and probably the only one she ever will.

"I wouldn't doubt it if I wasn't the only one, but pressing on…" He said, taking note that she still had not moved from the shadows.

"If you came here to reminisce, I'm afraid my schedule is a bit full at the moment. Perhaps another time." He suggested, walking over to the chair just a few feet away from the door, setting his hat upon it.

"Oh dear, busy schedule? I'm sure you can make a bit of time for me." Irene somewhat pleaded, being a bit sarcastic. As he placed his hat upon the chair, his eyes traveled to the side a bit, to glance at the small circular table in which he noticed had a tray on it, with a tea pot and two cups.

"Perhaps I could. You did bring tea up after all." He said, grabbing the tea pot and flipping the top open, inhaling the scent. Finding nothing wrong there, he grabbed the small teacup and examined it closely. Everything seemed fine, but he didn't want to take any chances.

"You may keep the tea to yourself. I find it a bit hard to trust when you _and _Mrs. Hudson are in this building together." He said, grabbing his jacket and moving to hang it on the rack that was a few feet away from the table. And with that Irene moved from out of the shadows, moving to the small table where the tea was.

"I have done nothing to it, and neither has Mrs. Hudson but fine, I'll drink some." Irene said; just to prove it was alright. She poured herself some hot fresh tea, and took a sip from out of the cup. It was then, she moved her hand up to the tip of her black Betmar hat, which was un-seeable at first due to the shadows, down to try and cover her right eye.

"But I have a feeling reminiscing isn't the reason you are here. Could it be about the altercation that occurred in your room earlier?" He curiously asked, his head tilting forward just a bit.

"Perhaps. Does it matter?" Irene quietly replied. "Are you asking because you are worried about me, Holmes?" Irene asked, going between calling him Sherlock and calling him Holmes.

"Now what should I be worrying about Irene? You said it was nothing too big, and Scotland Yard found nothing amiss, but I am not Scotland Yard. I, however, found a few things of interest. Would you like to know what I found?" He asked her, moving back to the table where she now stood.

"I suppose so. I'm sure you're just dying to tell me even if I say no." She told him with a small sigh. Watching him come over, she lightly turned the left side of her body away from Sherlock, leaving her standing somewhat sideways, with her right side in the direction of Sherlock. Obviously she was hiding something…something she didn't want him to see.

"Even though I'm sure there is no reason to worry…" But perhaps there was…


	2. Guilty Innocence cont

**Thanks so much for the reviews everyone! I greatly appreciate them all! I'm having fun with this fan fiction and I hope you all are as well! =) **

"No reason to worry?" Sherlock asked, repeating Irene. "Then what would you call that mark?" He asked, his hand moving to her chin, gently tilting her head to the light so he could get a good look at her face, his other hand coming to slowly and gently remove her hat, tossing it on the chair beside him. Now that her head was in the light, and her hat was off, he could fully see her face.

"Light brown coloration around your right eye, along with an interesting powdered substance of which I believe I've seen before." He said, lightly touching just below her eye to rub the powder in his hand. "You obviously tried to cover this once dark bruise but it didn't quite work. You managed to help it blend in with your pale skin, but the light coloration does stick out, especially when one tries to hide. It only makes it a tad more obvious, Irene." Sherlock told her, trying to scold her just a bit to make her feel a tad silly for trying to hide it from him.

"And this…" He quietly whispered to her, his fingers lightly tracing down her neck, then to the right to arrive upon her shoulder. Irene's skin was warm against his fingers, and he felt her pulse thrum against them, as he softly traced down. It was then he moved the collar of her shirt, and gently moved it about an inch lower to reveal a somewhat long cut, sliced, that started at the top of her left shoulder, crossed her collar bone and ended just before her left breast. He touched the tip of the injury at the top of her shoulder, and traced it to the collar bone, and as he did he felt the cold liquid against his fingers, the cold red liquid. Her injury was fresh, and the blood still lightly oozed, though not a lot, which was good.

The feel of Sherlock's fingers on her skin sent a quick chill up her back. The feel of his fingers tracing along her neck made her eyes close, goose bumps arising from the skin. As Sherlock traced her wound, her eyes slightly winced because she felt a bit of pain when he touched it, but she enjoyed his touch for that moment. A touch she had to admit she had longed for, a touch she would remember. Her eyes soon re-opened when his hand stopped, feeling the cold liquid very lightly ooze from that scar she had tried to hide. Her hand slowly rose and moved over to his, where she took hold of his hand and removed it from her wound, but not yet letting go. Instead, she looked down at his hand, glancing at the blood, before allowing her thumb to lightly rub the palm of his hand. A moment of silence between them, wondering what was going on.

Sherlock's eyes moved down to look at their hands, which were now touching. There was a light look of interest in his eyes as she held his and lightly rubbed his hand, a look of interest that sprung up interesting feelings within him, feelings he would not discuss for the time being. It was a moment later that Irene let go of his hand, cheeks a light rosy color, before turning and moving to the window, looking outside of it.

"Yes, well…I don't always go un-touched in a scuffle." Irene told him, a calm yet soft tone present. That moment was something they would remember, something they knew neither would bring up in the same hour, or the same day even.

When that ended, and when Irene moved over to the window, Sherlock glanced down at the blood on his fingers. Neither wound was extensive, but they were enough to cause something stir in his stomach; worry possibly. It was nothing compared to what he felt when Blackwood pushed her off of Tower Bridge but the feeling was close. Thoughts formed in his head, a variety of thoughts but he soon pushed them out and moved over to a larger table, which had Irene's picture on it, and leaned down to grab a white handkerchief, the one Irene gave to him the night before Blackwood's hanging.

"I believe this is yours." He held it out, offering to give it to her to tend to her wound.

Irene turned to face Sherlock when he had mentioned something belonging to her; which was her handkerchief. "Keep it as a gift from me." She told him with a smile, before glancing down to her scar. "I'm sure this will subside in a moment…" She mumbled, not feeling worry for the scar. Sure she felt pain, and the blood was lightly oozing, but she didn't mind since she knew it would settle down in a moment, just like it had earlier.

When Irene told him to keep the handkerchief, he glanced down at it, then at her. His eyes traveled to her shoulder where the small wound was, before traveling back up to her eyes. "I insist you use this; to help ease the bleeding a bit faster." He offered yet again, waiting for her to take it.

"And I insist you keep it." She turned it back on him, a light smile present. "I'll be fine." She told him, with a somewhat sure tone.

"Fine; if the woman insists…" He mumbled, using that nickname that he had given her. He the moved back over to the table, from where he got it, and neatly placed it next to the picture of Irene, where he felt it should be.

After setting the handkerchief down, he turned to look back to Irene who was looking out the window, her back to him. His mind went back to the place he had been earlier; Irene's room, and he brought back everything he could remember, that he found that is. And in all honesty, it did worry him, but he did not yet admit it.

"Your injuries strengthen my theories of what went on in your rooms." He broke the silence, eyes not yet leaving her. He wanted her to know what he found; what he concluded and what he thought. He wasn't too sure if he wanted her to know how he felt; worry, concern, protective, all which he thought he was feeling at the moment, but the confusion of those feelings only made him more unsure if they were true or not.

Irene's eyes glanced to the ground after hearing Holmes speak; her right hand coming up to apply pressure to the lightly oozing slice wound, which caused a bit of pain but nothing to bad, only a wince or two came from it. The pressure caused the blood to be pushed against her shirt which caused a small line of blood stain to form on her once clean white shirt, but it did help ease the bleeding even more, which was a plus.

Letting out a soft sigh, her head turned to glance at Sherlock, when he brought up his theories, whom stared back at her, a calm expression placed on his face.

"Well, then I'm sure you're still dieing to tell me. So please, do begin." Irene said, only a minute after Sherlock broke the silence, turning her body to face him, her back now to the window.


	3. The Scuffle Details

**Thanks for all the reviews and everything! Much appreciated, and I'm glad people are enjoying this story! This chapter has the details of the scuffle, as explained by Sherlock! So, Sherlock's smart-ness is in this chapter haha. I hope it's good, and I hope it sounds like Sherlock! Also, I wasn't sure what Irene's weapon was so I called it a small cane. *Shrugs* **

**So, here ya go! Hope you enjoy!!! =)**

Nodding to Irene's 'command' of telling him to begin with his theories, he cleared his throat, his mind flashing through the layout of her room so he could remember the details and exactly where they were.

"Upon entering your rather large room my eyes gazed around to see if there were any obvious signs of said commotion." He began, taking a seat in his chair, the fingers on his right hand rubbing against each other. "While there were no painfully obvious signs, the corner of my right eye caught something interesting over in the far right corner of your room." He continued, remembering his movements while he was in her room. "It was a mark of some kind; a dark mark." He paused, before continuing. "I made my way over to that corner and found that the mark was indeed a black line. It wasn't hard to figure out that line was a scuff mark from a shoe; certainly not yours as your shoes do not make those kinds of marks." He told her, his eyes closing but only for a moment to bring the details in his mind.

"There was not only one scuff mark, but more. Not only were there scuff marks there but there were also a few footprints stuck on the white carpet, and with that I concluded that the particular scuffle took place over at that part of the room." He explained to Irene, just getting started. "If I remember correctly; there were three different sized footprints. One which I knew had to be yours because of the smaller size and the other two were too big and wide for your feet which tells me that you had a scuffle with two men." Sherlock assumed, based on what he had found. He paused, but only for a minute to see if Irene had anything to say to what he just explained.

"Keep going, Sherlock. I know you aren't done." Replied Irene, a calm tone still in place.

"Very well, Irene. I was just making sure I wasn't going to fast for you." He replied to her, a slight grin on his face, deciding to continue before she could come up with anything in reply to that.

"Now, where was I?" He asked before nodding. "Ah, yes. The right corner of your room." He remembered, closing his eyes yet again.

"After I studied and analyzed the scuff marks and footprints, I remained in that area of the room feeling as if there was something else near, and I was right." He said as he opened his eyes and let a small grin form upon his face. "The mirror to the right had a few smudges on it, five to be exact; each a finger print, and also a small circular smudge just below that; the palm. While looking at these smudges I noticed a small line on the thumb smudge, which traced down and stopped in the middle of the palm, in which I knew, had to be a scar of some sort." Sherlock explained; his voice full of confidence with doubt nowhere in sight.

"Hand print smudge on the mirror; not yours as I have seen your fingers and they do not have a scar, not your right hand that is; which was the hand placed on the mirror." He assumed, knowing for a fact she had no scars on her right hand because he had seen them no more than a few minutes ago.

"Before going further into the details of that particular scuffle, I'm going to quickly add that there were a couple of light scuff marks a few inches in front of the door, slightly hidden by the carpet and-" But before he could finish, Irene cut him off.

"So, if there were scuffs by the door, why did you not bring that up until now? Perhaps you forgot about them? Clearly you would have seen those scuff marks before anything, Sherlock." Irene teased, trying to make him feel bad that he forgot to mention something so simple first.

After hearing her question, Sherlock stayed quiet for a moment and then replied. "That's… not important right now Irene. May I continue?" He asked, a bit of annoyance present.

"I wish you would." Irene sarcastically replied, remembering that line when they were atop of Tower Bridge.

"Anyway," He mumbled, before getting back on the subject at hand.

"Back to where the scuffle took place; I found a few pieces of small green glass shards under the table that was but a few feet away to the right. Glass shards in which I knew belonged to a bottle of some kind." He then reached in his shirt pocket, moving his fingers through it and brought out three small but sharp green glass shard pieces.

"I found it interesting that these were the only pieces I found, so I assume the man grabbed what parts and pieces he could and took it with him to prevent the Yardies from finding anything. Luckily, he missed a few rather small yet important pieces." He said with an amused tone, holding them in his fingers for Irene to see.

Sherlock then rose from his chair, glass shards still in hand, and made his way over to Irene, but stood a few feet away to allow space between them. After seeing that she looked at the shards for a few moments, he dropped them back into his shirt pocket.

"From the injury on your shoulder I would guess that the man used the glass bottle to attempt an attack on, but judging from the scratches on your small hidden knife cane," said Sherlock, pointing to her cane that leaned against the wall just a few inches away from her. "I would say you used your cane to block the incoming attack, telling me he aimed for your face but because you blocked it, the glass bottle shattered and from it becoming lighter he was able to get but a small yet brutal slice on your skin just below your face." Sherlock told Irene, figuring he was right. It was then he allowed another pause to allow Irene a comment in between should she want to.

Irene glanced down at her cane, which Sherlock was spot on about. "Yes, I did use this to block the attack. Had I not, my face would have been in worse shape than this." Irene mumbled to Sherlock; relief a bit visible in her voice.

"Indeed." He simply replied gazing at her face, feeling thankful it wasn't any worse than it was.

"And from using your cane as a shield I'm assuming that knocked the man back a bit, not without a but of a push from you of course, causing him to lose his balance, thus reaching out for something to help regain his balance; which happened to be the mirror." He said, still not done. He still had a bit more to say about the scene that played in her room earlier.

"When you caused the man to lose his balance he lost something; something in which he needs." Said Sherlock, reaching in his pocket yet again to bring out another piece of glass; about 2 inches in height and an inch across, but this one was different from the others; this shard was clear and much skinnier, one which was not part of the bottle.

"Note that this shard is clear, not of a green color as the other ones. It's not as thick as the others and it's smoother." He analyzed, studying it intensely. "Mirror man wore glasses, and they fell upon the ground thus cracking and breaking a tad bit, but because he could not see perfectly, he was unable to find the missing pieces of which belonged to his glasses, but was most likely able to find the shards from the bottle being they were of a darker color." Sherlock explained, feeling he was done and content with his explanation of that particular man. But he was not yet fully finished.

"Now, moving onto your bruise upon your face…" He softly told her, his eyes on her bruise.

"Judging by the pattern and direction of the bruise I would guess that the man used his left hand to cause that bruise. I assume it was a rather large and strong man judging by how dark and large the bruise is." Sherlock told her, moving over to the table that he put the handkerchief on, grabbing it and moving back to her. It was then he moved even closer to her, reaching up to gently wipe the powder off her face to reveal the rather large and dark bruise surrounding her eye.

"Ah. A light scrape is mixed in with the bruise. That tells me the man must also have a scrape upon his knuckle." He interpreted from the bruise on her face. "Probably even a bruise upon his hand considering how hard he hit you. There is not much to this man as there is to the first man, but I believe the man who gave you the bruise is slightly taller than you." He inferred his eyes still on her bruise. "But those are the two men who you fought with, correct?" Sherlock asked; much confidence still present in his voice.

"Very good, Sherlock, you are correct. 'Mirror man' as you call him, was the skinnier man, and he did in fact have glasses. The other man who gave me this bruise was more built than the other, and he was taller; taller than both the man and I." Irene confirmed; not doubting Sherlock.

"Thank you for the confirmation, Irene. I am almost done, only a few more moments are needed to finish." Replied Sherlock, stepping away from Irene to allow more space between them.

"The scuff marks at the door were from a man who was most likely guarding the door to prevent your escape. He obviously failed seeing as you did escape but not without ease. He tried to stop you, using what strength he had to attempt to hold you from leaving. He managed to maybe hold you for but a few moments but of course you out did him." He quickly added, before turning away from Irene, his back to her.

"In summary," Sherlock began; his eyes closing. "Three men; two struggled with you in the right corner area of the room, as seen from the different sized footprints. 1 man caused that bruise on your face, leaving a light scrape upon your bruise and possibly upon his hand. He was the more tall man, I should say. Mirror man used a glass bottle as an attack and using your cane you stopped the blow to your face and instead caused it to slice into your skin just below. With that, mirror man lost his balance and reached out to help regain his balance, causing his hand smudge on the mirror. His hand is scarred as noted from the mirror print. Right after that, you ran for the door, causing the door man to try and stop you, which failed." He summarized, before re-opening his eyes and turning back to face her.

"How have I done?" He asked Irene, a grin on his face.

"Impressive Sherlock." Irene commented; the corner of her lips curled up into a smile.

"Just one thing, though" She added. "There were four men, not three. The fourth man was standing guard at my window should I have felt the need to use the window as an escape route." Irene corrected. She was amused by the fact she just corrected Sherlock, especially since Sherlock wasn't one who liked to be corrected after being so confident in his findings.

Sherlock was silent; his mind replaying every detail he had found in Irene's room, and not one told him that a man was standing guard at the window. "Four men…are you sure?" He asked Irene, not liking the fact that he was wrong, even if it did happen.

"I'm quite positive, Sherlock; I was there after all." Irene replied, sarcasm lightly present in that last part of her comment. Even though Irene loved to irk him for the fun of it, she wasn't lying about the four men in her room. "The man at the window did nothing to assist the other three, though. He hardly moved except to follow them out after I escaped." Irene explained to him, her eyes staring at Sherlock.

"But don't worry, you did your best." She teased him, a smile present. Her eyes continued to gaze upon Sherlock, noticing he was still in thought and still a tad upset with the fact that he forgot, or didn't know rather, about a fourth man. "Really, though, Sherlock. It's fine. We all make mistakes." Irene said, yet again trying to irk him in a way, but also trying to make him feel better.

"Indeed we do…but not everybody likes to make them, Irene." He replied back to her, not that happy that he missed a fourth man. "So, four men…" He mumbled, thoughts processing through his head.

Irene nodded, turning back to face the window. A light sigh escaped her as she kept her back to Sherlock, her eyes gazing out the window. "And I'm sure we both know who sent those men…" Irene quietly said. She knew who sent them, and she was sure Sherlock probably knew as well; it wasn't too hard to figure that out.


	4. Feelings and Confusion

**I'm sorry for the looooong wait! Things have been getting busy and I had a small bit of writer's block! Forgive me! *Bows***

**Btw, Watson should be coming in soon. In about 2 chapters or so. =) **

**Here is chapter 4! Again, sorry for the long wait! **

Silence filled the room after Irene mentioned them knowing who sent those men after Irene, and indeed they did. It was obvious especially with the small time frame of which those men were sent; only a week and a half or so, or even less, after Irene left Moriarty.

"Indeed. I believe I know who sent those men, just as you do. And I'm sure we know why." Said Sherlock, his gaze fixed on Irene as she kept her back to him.

"Yes. And we know he isn't one to quit, which is why I'm starting to feel as if I shouldn't have come here. I don't want to put you in any danger," Irene replied to him, concern visible in her tone as her voice went soft. It was not until now she had begun to regret coming here since danger would most likely follow her, and he was the last person she wanted to put in any danger. "He's a powerful man…"

"I see no reason why you should believe I am in any danger. It would appear you are the target, not I, and now that you have displayed your skills I'm quite sure he will not underestimate you on the front ever again." He said, with confidence. He wasn't worried about being in danger, it was Irene he worried for but he wouldn't admit it, not yet at least.

"Sherlock, me being around here is dangerous. If he is after me, he won't give up; it's how he is. And besides," Irene paused, a soft quiet sigh passing through her lips. "He knows my weakness hasn't changed…" She said in a soft tone, her eyes closing for just a moment, knowing full well he remembered what her weakness was.

Hearing Irene say her weakness hasn't changed made the corners of his curve downward, giving a frown. It also caused a feeling within his heart which felt like sadness and worry; feelings Sherlock never talked about because he wasn't like that. He usually kept his feelings to himself but for some reason he wanted to talk to Irene about them, but decided not to for the time being.

"Yes, well, even if your weakness had changed or not I see no reason to worry about me. Though he may not be fond of me like you say, I feel as if you are still the more important target during this time." He responded, trying to hide the concern he had for her.

"Weaknesses can be such a problem. But everyone has them." Irene commented, wondering what Sherlock's weakness was; though she felt she may have had an idea.

"Weaknesses have never been my strong suit." Replied Sherlock, laughing at his own failed pun. It was true in a way, but Sherlock did have a weakness, maybe even more than one but he would never admit to what it was, or _whom _it was. He was quite good at hiding things about himself, especially very important things.

"Perhaps I should go." She simply said, her voice had risen just a tad. "I just feel uneasy being around when a man like Moriarty is after me." Said she, turning around to finally face Sherlock, studying his expression.

"Well, if you must go, more the pity." He simply replied, acting as if he didn't care all that much.

As he said that, Irene started to make her way over to the door, but she stopped just next to him. "As I said before, please don't…" But before she could finish, he spoke to her, cutting her off.

"I shall not underestimate him. After thinking him over and what he has done, or did I should say, during our time with the Blackwood case, I've learned he is not to be underestimated." Replied Sherlock, a calm yet serious expression on his face. He had taken sometime to sit down and think about everything he knew about Moriarty, which really wasn't a lot but it didn't need to be for Sherlock. "And I do know he is dangerous." He added, his eyes staring straight ahead as she stood next to him.

"Good." Was all she could think of to say.

"But," He said, his eyes traveling to the woman who stood so close to him. "I believe I must insist you stay here. It would be rather easier to keep an eye on you," He said, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

"Keep an eye on me?" Asked Irene, turning to fully face him, their bodies closer than they have been through the time she had been here. "Do you feel the need to protect me?" Her voice quiet, her eyes gazing at his face which she felt she could not get enough of. When she was around Sherlock, especially this close, she felt safe, as if no one could hurt her.

Sherlock quietly cleared his through, noticing the closeness of their bodies. "It would just…be easier than having to run through London to try and locate you…" He said, using that as a bad excuse to cover that he obviously did want to protect her.

"I'm not sure if I should stay…" Whispered Irene, doubt in her voice. When saying that, her mind agreed but her heart didn't. It began to beat a tad faster, standing so close to him. Thoughts raced through her mind, emotions raced through her body along with Sherlock but neither mentioned it. "But…I think I shall." Irene said, emotions clouding her decision in some way. Just a minute ago she wasn't sure if staying around was safe, for him mostly, but she felt the need to be near him, to be around him. Even if she stayed in his room while he wasn't around, it still felt nice to her. His scent, his ways of his rooms, everything.

And it was the same for Sherlock. When Irene had decided to stay he felt as if he wanted to thank her for reaching that decision, to thank her for agreeing to stay around where he could see her. To admire her beauty, her scent, her ways; everything. It was very different for Sherlock to feel this way, especially since she is the only woman to ever out-smart him, and especially since she was a world class criminal, and he a very well known consulting detective.

"Sherlock…" Whispered Irene, a whisper that seemed had so much emotion. They were closer than they had been but a moment ago, their clothes were lightly touching, their warm breaths hitting one another; feeling it upon their skin. They could hear each other breathe almost, and Irene found her gaze upon his lips, then up to his eyes, getting closer to his face, noticing that Sherlock stood there, not even moving away…

…In which Sherlock also just stood there; his eyes looking down at Irene feeling and seeing her get closer and closer to him. He felt he should pull away, but something was telling him not to. His heart perhaps. Not only did he notice Irene getting closer but he noticed that he even move a half an inch, or so, closer to her. Her scent surrounded him, and he felt at ease but also felt a little tense, thinking over what was happening, but just as their lips were about to touch…

…a knock came upon the door followed by it opening. This caused Irene to quickly move her face away from Sherlock's, slightly stepping to the side but still standing next to him. Irene couldn't help but feel saddened that she stepped away from Sherlock, after being so close to him, so close to feeling his lips yet again.

"Mr. Holmes!" Called a lady, sharing glances between Irene and Sherlock, making a few assumptions of what might have been happening.

Sherlock's eyes traveled to the lady, a bit of disappointment in his eyes. "What is it, _nanny_?" He asked, adding that suspicious tone to 'nanny'. He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, but also a tad bit thankful because of his confusion he felt during that moment. Had they kissed he wouldn't have been sure if he should allow it, or pull away but obviously he would've allowed it; and in all honesty, he felt as if he wanted it. To feel her lips while not drugged was something he couldn't help but think about.

"Officer Clarke has just made an appearance! He said it's rather important!" Said she, standing just inside the room. "He's say it's important. He is on his way up." Mrs. Hudson informed him, glancing behind her shoulder when hearing steps upon the stairs.

"I'll just be over here," Said Irene, stepping passed Sherlock and into the little alcove (?) just a few feet away from Holmes. With that, she grabbed onto the left curtain and pulled it to the right, then pulled the right curtain to the left, closing her in. This also caused some light to leave the room, making it a bit darker but since the other window was open, it still lit up the room. Can't have Clarke spot her, a world class criminal, now can we?

After making his ways up the stairs, Clarke walked into the room, standing tall and true like a real officer and a gentleman. "Sir," Greeted Clarke with a polite nod.

"Clarke! It's good to see you!" Sherlock said with a light smile, taking note of the reason Irene went to conceal herself. "What brings you here?" He curiously asked, his hands clasping together, waiting patiently.

"I thought I'd let you know that we arrested a man just a few minutes ago, sir. We believe he might be connected with Moriarty in some way." Informed Clarke, allowing a small pause before continuing. "We have a hansom waiting just outside if you'd like to come down and talk with him, sir." He finished, waiting for Sherlock's reaction and/or reply.

"Most engaging…" Said Sherlock in a quiet tone, his eyes narrowing slightly, thinking over if he should go or not. He felt as if she should, but the thought of leaving Irene alone at the moment didn't sit well with him. "Allow me a moment to think about it, Clarke." He replied.

"Yes, sir." Clarke said in a respectful bow before exiting the room along with Mrs. Hudson.

Glancing over to the small alcove where Irene hid, he cleared his throat in a hinting way to tell her they were gone. "You may come out now, Irene." He said, making his way over.

With that, Irene pushed the curtains open, her eyes on Sherlock. "You should go down and talk with this man. If he is connected to Moriarty he could give you useful information," Suggested Irene.

"Indeed. But leaving you alone doesn't sit right. I don't want Moriarty to take another chance at your life." He told her, concern once again present.

"I can take care of myself Sherlock. I don't always need saving." Irene jokingly said with a small smile.

"Really? So, you would've gotten out of the German locks back at the slaughterhouse without a problem?" he brought up, a grin clear on his face.

"You got me there, Sherlock." A light chuckle escaped her. "But really, I should be fine for the time being. I don't think Moriarty will take his next strike so soon. I'll be out and about in the town, blending within." She explained. "What is the time?" She then suddenly asked.

Hearing that random question, Sherlock pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open. "Twenty five passed one." He answered, wondering why she suddenly asked that.

"If you do go down and talk with the man, it should take no more than thirty five, forty minutes. How about you meet me at the Grand at two o' clock?" She asked.

"The Grand? You really want to go back there, Irene? I honestly don't think it's a very good idea." He said, not understanding why she would go back after what happened.

"I need to gather some things if I am to stay here for a little while, but I promise to be careful." Irene assured him, walking to the door. "Two o' clock, Sherlock." Said she, watching as Sherlock exited the room before her.

"Two o' clock." He repeated, quickly making his way down stairs, and outside. "Clarke! Let us make our way to the police headquarters." He said, rushing inside the hansom with Clarke, hoping that Irene would be okay. The sooner he finished; the sooner he could meet back with her.


	5. An Important Criminal

_(Woo! Another chapter!! Thank you all so much for the reviews! I really do appreciate them all! =) They make me happy, and they make me want to keep writing!_

_Sorry for the long delays. The RP is going a little slow, so the updates will be too but there is A LOT more to come! More Sherene goodness and Watson will be coming in soon! _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes of any of the characters, sadly. But oh well, I still love them! )_

Upon entering the hansom, Sherlock moved to the far left of the seat, and Clarke sat across from him, nodding to the driver that they were ready. The door then closed, and after a moment the hansom began to move. Sherlock leaned forward just a little bit to glance out the window and shoot Irene Adler a quick glare as she came out of the building, which she returned the glance with a smile and a wink.

After she left his view, he sat back in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment hoping Irene Adler would be okay until two o' clock. He knew she could take care of herself but that didn't mean he didn't worry for her, because he did. This Professor Moriarty character was no joke and was not to be taken lightly and Sherlock knew that now. At first he didn't think much of it, but now he knew to be on his feet about this mysterious man, especially for Irene Adler; the woman he cared for but did not voice it.

Clarke sat in the opposite seat of Sherlock Holmes, and gazed at him, knowing he was thinking about something but he wasn't sure what. After a moment or two, a slight grin came upon Sherlock's face as he felt Clarke staring at him.

"Have you something to say, Clarke?" He asked, his eyes opening to look at the man.

"Sorry, sir. I just didn't want to interrupt you." He apologized.

"You wouldn't have." He truthfully told him with an assuring smile. "But, have you anything on our man?" He curiously asked, wanting to know all he could before talking with the man.

"Well, sir," Began Clarke, adjusting himself to get more comfortable. "He refuses to talk with us. We've asked him questions but he gives us nothing. So Inspector Lestrade thought you might be able to get some information out of him." He told the consulting detective, going quiet.

"Indeed. I will do what I can." He replied, before bringing up another question. "Where was the arrest made?"

"Just a few feet away from The Grand, sir." Replied Clarke.

"I see." Said Sherlock, immediately putting that man in connection with the commotion in Irene's room earlier. It gave Sherlock a bit of hope that this man may be able to help him find Moriarty but he also knew it wouldn't be that easy.

Suddenly, the hansom came to a stop and Clarke stood up, opened the door and hopped out, holding it open for Sherlock, which he immediately followed.

Walking inside the very large building, Clarke nodded to the officer whom held the door for them before calling for the officer a few feet away.

"Officer Aimes!" Called Clarke.

"Sir?" The other officer responded, standing straight.

"Take our new prisoner to one of the question rooms." He ordered.

"Right away, sir." He responded before turning and running off to do so.

"This way, sir." Clarke told Sherlock, walking down the path which just passed the hall with all the prison cells, Blackwood's old room barley in view in the way back.

"It's interesting, sir." He began, nodding to the hall with the cells. "Mostly every prisoner refuses to stay in Blackwood's old cell. They believe it's haunted or they might become possessed." He said with a very light chuckle, glancing to Sherlock.

"Fools they are then, Clarke! Blackwood was just a man fallible as any. Why they are so afraid, I can't begin to understand. He had no powers in which people believed; only mere science and payment as persuasion." Said Sherlock with a light chuckle, glancing down the hall.

"And the truth wouldn't have been found out if it hadn't been for you, sir." Complimented Clarke with a small smile, before continuing on his way. Sherlock just gave a slight chuckle and continued to follow Clarke deeper into the prison; his eyes and ears alert.

After a little while of walking, they soon arrived at the destination. Clarke had come to a complete stop, with Sherlock right beside him, at a room which had a small square clear window next to the door and through the window a man was visible, sitting on wooden chair with a large rectangular wooden table placed in front of him.

"That'd be him, sir." Clarke said, nodding to the man whom sat at the table. The man was an average sized man, not too big and not to small but he had a bit of muscle tone to him though it wasn't a lot. His brown eyes were a little narrowed and his hands were sweaty and were clasped together, his fingers fiddling with each other. On his face he had a small mustache and in inch or so long beard, or goatee if you will which made him look slightly rugged. His clothes consisted of a long sleeved white shirt, and some brown slacks both which looked quite dirty with light brown stains due to sweat most likely.

"When we arrested him I could smell a faint scent of alcohol, along with a heavy scent of sweat." Clarke added, staring at the man through the clear window. Taking a step to the side, Clarke unlocked the door and opened it, nodding to Sherlock.

"Thank you, Clarke." Sherlock politely said, before stepping inside the room, closing the door behind it. He studied the man as much as he could. His looks, his light movements, everything he could.

"You must be Sherlock Holmes," Said the man, a slight grin coming upon his face. His thumbs rubbing against each other as his hands stayed together.

"Indeed I am. But I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of making your acquaintance." Sherlock replied, slowly walking towards the table, keeping his gazed fixed on the man. As he got closer, Sherlock inhaled the scent and immediately picked up an alcohol type scent, which indeed was mixed with sweat.

"I thought they might call upon you to do the talking. Quite funny how they always seem to need your help, and also quite pathetic in my opinion." He told Sherlock, a low chuckle passing through his throat. The man shot a glance to the clear window and noticed Clarke had been joined by Lestrade.

"It's because the Yardies know me so well. They knew you wouldn't talk so they asked for my assistance. I honestly don't mind at all, though. I like to hear myself talk and I enjoy sharing my theories, only sometimes though." Sherlock replied to the man.

The man gave him a small smile, and let out a small yawn as he kept his attention on Sherlock. Pretending to seem bored, as if he wasn't paying attention.

"But you seem to have avoided the first subject," Added Sherlock, his baton in hand.

"About not having the pleasure to meet my acquaintance?" Asked the man, leaning back in his chair just a little bit.

Sherlock gave him a quick and short nod, standing still and waiting for a reply.

"My name is not of any importance," Said he with a light shrug. "What is the good in knowing, anyway? I will not give out information so easily, Mr. Holmes." The man stated, his voice full of caution.

"Yes, well, do as you will." Replied Holmes. "I never did fancy in having an easy case, really. Having an easily solved case takes away the pleasure and satisfaction. I like a good challenge." He stated, pacing slowly across the room.

"Hm. Yes. Complicated cases can be fun, yet hard." He replied. "Especially when one has no knowledge of the suspects. And I'm not just talking about myself," The man said in a low tone, a somewhat of a sadistic grin appearing.

All Sherlock did was give him a grin in return. He didn't bother replying because he knew the man had more to say.

"But I must say," He began, looking Sherlock up and down. "You are in over your head Mr. Holmes." He told him, somewhat of a threatening tone present.

"Is that a threat, perhaps? Or a promise?" He asked.

"More of a warning, if you shall take it." Said the man, moving his chair closer to the table so he could lean against it. Once he did, he separated his hands and rested them upon the table, feeling more comfortable now that he was resting against something.

Once his hands separated, Sherlock's eyes quickly traveled down to the man's hands and a light chuckle escaped Holmes.

"Good, because I don't respond so well to threats." Sherlock told him with a warning-like tone, his grasp on the baton hardening; not taking much of a liking to this man. Some people responded better to violence, or the illusion of it. "But a warning I can deal with," He added, making his baton obvious to the man.

"Then perhaps it was a threat, as well. It just depends on how you want to take it," Said he. He eyed the baton that Sherlock had but he didn't feel threatened at all, nor was there fear present in the man.

"Hm. Well, pressing on, it seems you were in over your head earlier this morning. That is if you were, as I suspect, in the rooms of Miss Irene Adler." Assumed Sherlock, knowing for a fact that the man was in Irene's room earlier.

Hearing that, the man lightly gritted his teeth and clenched his fists but soon relaxed them, finding himself not caring or minding at all that Sherlock placed him in the room of Irene Adler; because he knew Sherlock would have anyway.

"Yes," Began the man, the grin still present. "I thought I could handle her, but she was too much. Miss Adler is quite a force to be reckoned with and I didn't think I'd have a lot of trouble in dealing with her." Said the man, shaking the thought of Irene out of his head because it caused pain just thinking about her. He did receive quite a few bruises but most were concealed by his clothing.

"Quite a force indeed." He completely agreed. Sherlock knew how much of a force Irene Adler was, and he dared not underestimate her anymore.

"But tell me," He began, his eyes on Sherlock. "How did you figure out that I was the one who was there?" He curiously asked.

"Ah, it's quite simple in fact." Sherlock said, turning to the side and walking towards the wall. "It was mostly the scar on your hand that gave you away." He stated, nodding down to the man's hand, in which he also gazed down at.

The man's eyes stared at his own hands, and he stared at his scar. It had started on his thumb and was extended into his palm, but he wondered how Sherlock knew just by his scar. "It still doesn't tell me anything."

"It's not that hard to figure out, really." Said Holmes, the corner of his lips moving up. "On the mirror of Irene's rooms was a hand print and on that hand print was a scar that started on the thumb and extended into the palm." Explained Sherlock with a light shrug.

"I see…" He simply replied.

"And not only that but you have a faint scent of alcohol to you. I found a few pieces of a glass bottle on the floor of the rooms, which I assume is from an alcohol bottle, and Miss Adler had a scar upon her body." He continued to explain, his dislike for the man rising just by knowing he was the one who injured her.

The man just shrugged it off and gave Sherlock a calm look. "Yes, well, I had to use something against her." The man told Sherlock. "And a bottle was the only thing I had," He added. "I don't care if I hurt her or not."

"Of course you wouldn't care." Said Sherlock, a bit of anger present.

"But I can tell you do." The man replied, a light chuckle erupting from his throat. Sherlock just have him a look that told the man that Sherlock did in fact care, and a look that told him Sherlock did not like the fact that he caused injury to Irene. "I, clearly, failed at capturing her. I should not have gone alo-" He was cut off.

"But you were not the only one there. There were three other men, you see." Sherlock told the man with a sure tone. Sherlock didn't doubt himself; he was pretty sure that he was right about his theories of what happened and how many men there were.

"How are you so certain of that?" He asked, arms crossing over his chest.

"Not only did I find obvious evidence to others being there, but Miss Irene Adler WAS there in case you forgot." Sherlock simply told him, making the man seem pretty stupid. The man just let out a scoff in response, not knowing what to say.

"Yes, obviously we failed. We were hired by a man; a man in which I'm quite sure you don't want to be messing with," He warned yet again. "He's a bigger forced to be reckoned with, Mr. Holmes. Far more than Irene Adler." He added, laughing a little.

"Professor Moriarty, you mean?" Sherlock asked. "I believe I'm quite aware of the knowledge he possesses."

"Are you? You have not met the man." He replied.

"That may be, but I've heard things about him. And due to recent events, I'm aware of how devious and cautious this man is." Sherlock told him. Even if he felt he knew some about this Professor Moriarty, he couldn't help but be worried at just how dangerous he was, or could be.

"Words from myself and Miss Adler aren't enough to describe him, I'm sure." He told Sherlock.

"Perhaps." Said Sherlock. "What I'd like to know is why you are helping such a dangerous man?" He asked.

A light chuckle then escaped the prisoner, a chuckle that told Sherlock he would not give any information; so instead, he decided to change the subject.

"What puzzles me…" Began the man, a small grin upon his face. "Is why you left Miss Irene Adler all alone? Especially with a man like Moriarty keeping a close watch on her, awaiting her presence."

That didn't make Sherlock feel any better about leaving Irene alone. He didn't want to leave her alone in the first place but she pretty much told him to go; saying she could take care of herself. Sherlock had faith in her, much faith, but he still couldn't help but be worried since a man like Moriarty was after her.

"Well, as I'm sure you know, Irene Adler is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Your injuries certainly prove that." Sherlock nodded to the bruises upon his face and skin (mostly the face and neck) that were bare. This only made the man grit his teeth in annoyance even more.

It was then the man let out another scoff and shook his head, leaning a bit across the table. Suddenly, a low chuckle escaped him. A low chuckle that also sounded a bit dark and evil in its own way while accompanied by a smirk.

"I don't think you fully appreciate what I've just told you." He said. Sherlock stared at him intently, listening carefully. Worry building within him.

"A shadow follows her at this, Mr. Holmes. A shadow which holds her signed death warrant." The prisoner said, a sadistic like grin on his face.

Sherlock just stayed silent; his insides felt like they were burning. With this statement the man told him, Sherlock's worry built up even more and gave him a very bad feeling.

"I suggest you tell me just what is going to happen." Ordered Sherlock, anger within his voice. He was not playing around, at all. He then moved closer to the man, raising his baton just a little as he tightened the grip yet again. "Now." Commanded Sherlock, a fierce and serious tone and expression in place. His baton was resting on the table as Sherlock held it, showing it as a warning to the man. If he had to, Sherlock would use it to get information out of him.

"Let's just say," He began, his eyes glancing down at the table before back at Sherlock. "Irene Adler is going to receive an explosive surprise should she return." He finished. A sadistic, dark tone and grin visible. That sent chills down Sherlock's spine, and his eyes widened with shock and worry. Irene Adler was in trouble and he had to get to her, and fast.

Narrowing his eyes, Sherlock gritted his teeth together and raised his baton, he then brought the tip of it harshly to the man's face which caused him to holler in pain and cover his face; groaning. With that, Sherlock turned and opened the door, giving an apology look to Clarke and Lestrade.

There was no time to waste; he had to get to Irene Adler before it was too late. He couldn't lose her…he wouldn't. He would do anything he could to get to Irene Adler in time. He would do everything he could to save her. He just couldn't lose her…


	6. Time is Everything

_(( I'm really really sorry for this long delay. I've been quite busy with work and other things in the real life and my muse has been low because of it. I hope you all aren't mad or anything with me because of the long delays. I'm really trying, though! *Bows in apology.* I'm so sorry!_

_I actually did this chapter in 30 minutes. I was on my computer and started typing this at like…11 and got done around 11:30. I am proud and a bit impressed I got this done and I am proud of how it came out! I hope you all enjoy it! _

_Again, I'm sorry for the long delay! There might still be long delays and I apologize. _

_Review if you like! But anyway, here you go! =) ))_

Within a minute or two, Sherlock rushed his way out of the building and onto the busy street; quickly waving down a cab within a second. As soon as it stopped, Sherlock opened the door and jumped in. "To the Grand! As fast as you can!" Ordered Sherlock with a firm tone; his words rushing out. His heart was beating faster and faster the more he thought of Irene getting hurt, and he felt the drops of sweat starting to ease from the top of his head and down his body. He needed to make haste, and he hoped this Cab would make haste as well.

And so it did. The Hansom started off at a good pace and Sherlock hoped it would keep at this quick pace for time was everything right now. He was supposed to meet Irene in about twenty minutes but due to the very important piece of information he had received he was going to be quite early and he hoped he'd get there in time to stop Irene. He hadn't any idea of just how this 'explosive surprise' was going to play out but all that mattered was preventing it. Or preventing her from getting to it.

As moments passed, Sherlock felt the hansom slowed down and that caused him look outside, wondering what was going on. They couldn't slow down right now. Now was not a great time.

"Why have we slowed?" Asked Sherlock, swallowing hard.

"The traffic, sir. People and other hansoms are crowding the streets." The driver answered.

"How far are we away from the Grand?" Sherlock curiously asked, hoping not too far.

"Not very far. A few streets down. I can have us there in about 7 min-" As the driver turned to look at Sherlock he was completely surprised when he noticed an empty seat and an open door. Sherlock Holmes had bolted out the door without letting the driver finish and without paying him even, but Sherlock did not care about that at this time.

Now out an about on the street, Sherlock was running as fast as he could down the sidewalks, through the people and across the streets. It was not without a run ins to some strangers here and there but he kept on his way. The sweat continued as did his racing heart as his feet continued to make very fast pace. As he continued, he began to see the Grand within his sight which only made him run faster, relieved he was almost there. "Move please!" Shouted Sherlock as he made his way through the crowded streets; the people jumping out of the way as they stared at him as if he was a mad man. His hands would move out in front of him as he gently but quickly pushed through the people, becoming annoyed with just how many there were.

Finally! After another minute or two, Sherlock was just a few feet away. And then he saw her. Irene Adler was just about to enter the doors of the Grand and Sherlock didn't want that to happen. He had to get to her before she got to her room and he hoped he'd be able to. Watching as she was about to enter the Grand, Sherlock tried to hurry his pace.

"Woman!" Sherlock called out to her; trying to be loud but the conversations of people and other noises out did him. "Woman!" He called again, almost to the doors right when she entered.

Inside the building, Irene stopped and looked around in confusion, thinking someone called her name, but not seeing anyone she just shrugged it off and continued. With a small smile on her face, Irene Adler stepped onto the elevator with a few people before glancing down at the ground as the elevator was ready to take her up.

But Sherlock didn't like that. "Wait!" Sherlock called as he tried to race towards the elevator but failed due to the crowd that was inside the lobby. Cursing himself, Sherlock looked around for the nearest staircase and once spotted he dashed like a mad man for it. He flung open the door and started up the steps with quick pace; becoming tired from all the running but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

For one minute, Sherlock came to a stop on the fourth floor, trying to remember what floor Irene was on. Catching his breathe, he suddenly remembered and continued up the stairs, sometimes skipping one or two steps just to get there faster. And then he finally arrived. Harshly pushing open the door, he ran out into the hall and turned the corner, seeing Irene just a few feet away from her room. "Woman!" He called for the third time; loudly so she could hear.

And so she did. Hearing a familiar voice, Irene Adler stopped in her tracks and turned to see Sherlock running towards her. "Sherlock…why are you already here?" She asked, knowing he was early. "And why…do you look so tired like that?" Asked Irene, examining him. He was tired, breathing hard and a little sweaty.

"Do not enter your room, Irene." Sherlock warned, catching his breathe as he talked. "We must leave," He said with a low tone, acting serious.

"Leave? For what reason?" Irene asked, turning to look at her door before back to Sherlock. She was beginning to feel worried, and a little freaked out with why Sherlock was acting like this and warning her.

"I need to go back in there, Sherlock. My things-" But before she could finish, he cut her off.

"No. Trust me, woman." He said, his eyes resting on her face.

Irene was confused; and still a little concerned with why he was telling her not to go in. She was just about to walk away from her rooms but then she spotted something, or someone, from the end of the hall. It was someone. He was dressed in black slacks and had a long black cloak on; a professor/doctor's like cloak. He also had a black Fedora hat to go with it that was leaned down a bit to cover his face. His face was covered thanks to his hat but also thanks to the shadows he was standing with in. "Sherlock…" Irene whispered, nodding to the man at the end of the hall. "That's…" She began, feeling like she knew for sure who it was.

Sherlock turned to look and chills were sent up his spine. A little scared, Irene took a few steps back. "That's Mori-" But then she stopped herself when she felt her feet hit some kind of wire; a white wire that had blended in with the carpet. Hitting the wire, it was cut and a fairly loud click like sound was heard. Glancing around, Irene tried to spot what she tripped on and then a series of clicks were heard.

Hearing this, Sherlock's eyes widened as he leaned forward to grab a hold of Irene's arm, pulling her forward as he quickly took a few steps forward, trying to run to get away from her room. But then it happened. With one final click an explosion went off within her room. The force of the explosion caused Irene and Sherlock to be sent forward into the air before coming back down to the ground, rather hard. The fire engulfed her room as a lot of debris began to fly through her room and through the hall. Sherlock and Irene laid upon the carpeted ground a good amount of feet; even a yard perhaps, away from the room.

The flames were heard sizzling near by, along with screams from outside and down the hall. Other than that, all was quiet with Sherlock and Irene. But then a dark chuckle was heard and it echoed down the hall. The man from the end of the hall came out of the shadows and casually made his way down the hall towards their bodies. A sadistic grin was on his face but it was hidden thanks to the shadow his hat gave him. Suddenly stopping, he bent down to grab the Fedora that belonged to Sherlock Holmes, before standing up and continuing on his way over to them.

He then stopped just in front of their bodies and kneeled down in front of Holmes whom was on his back; unconscious. His hidden eyes traveled to Irene before back to Sherlock, with yet another dark chuckle escaping his throat.

"Your weaknesses are the same," Said he in a dark voice. "Most intriguing." He added. He then tossed Sherlock's Fedora onto his stomach before standing back up.

"Mr. Holmes," He began, amusement present in his tone. "Your death warrant…has just been signed." He said with a small pause in the middle of that sentence. With one more glance to Irene, he just laughed and turned away from them; casually walking away without a care in the world. He had done his business and all he cared to do was leave them there.

Irene's eyes slowly opened to the sound to fire, distant screams and a dark voice. All sounded blurry except for the voice due to it being so near. Swallowing hard, Irene lifted her head up and saw the dark figure walking away. Squinting her eyes, Irene placed her palms on the ground and pushed up, standing on her two feet. A rush of dizziness suddenly shot through her as she stumbled back but she placed a hand on the wall to catch her balance. Breathing hard, she took a step forward as if wanting to go after the man. "Mor…" She began, trying. "Moriarty…" She tried to call but it came out as a faint mumble. She then took another step forward wanting so much to try and go after him but then her vision and hearing became clear. And so did her mind.

"Sherlock…" Irene whispered, quickly turning around to see his body on the ground. Feeling very worried, Irene ran over to him and got on her knees beside him, putting her hands on his face. "Sherlock…can you hear me?" Asked Irene in a soft tone.

There was nothing. "Sherlock…" She called again, certain she could feel tears welling in her eyes. She needed him to respond.

"Ow…" Mumbled Sherlock. A very short and quiet mumble, but a response none the less.

Taking a big sigh of relief, she looked at his face. "Open your eyes for me." She whispered to him, wanting to see his eyes.

"Le…leg" He whispered, his eyes still closed.

Knowing what he said, Irene turned to look down at his legs and what she saw, she didn't like. A piece of debris, a hard piece of wood was sticking out of his leg. About the size of his palm. It seemed to be in there deep and while she thought of taking it out she wasn't sure if she should since it could cause a lot of blood to erupt. But the blood was already oozing out, quite a bit it seemed.

"Okay…um…" Irene began, looking around for anything helpful. She then spotted a burnt and torn up long sleeved white blouse that most likely came from her room. Grabbing it, she tore a few long and thick pieces; perfect for wrapping around his leg.

"I'm going to wrap this so-" She began, but he actually cut her off.

"Take…it out, woman." Said he, pain visible.

"If it's in there deep, and I take it out it could-" But again, she was cut off. Would she ever be able to finish her sentences?

"Just…do…it…" He said, breathing hard.

Taking a deep breathe, Irene wrapped her hand around the debris and closed her eyes. Within a moment, she took it out with force and looked down at his leg. Amazingly, it wasn't in there as deep as she thought; but his wound was still somewhat bad. Making haste, Irene quickly wrapped the thick cloths around his leg, near the wound and over the wound, to help the blood ease a little. He needed help. He needed his leg checked out by a doctor; and fast. Both of them for injuries, even though Irene didn't think she needed to be checked out.

But then it hit her. The realization of her going to a hospital. She was Irene Adler. A world famous class criminal. She could be arrested if she was spotted at a hospital; something she really didn't want. But she also didn't want Sherlock suffering, he needed help. And then she formed an idea in her head. She knew just the doctor to go see.

"Can you…can you stand up?" Irene asked, knowing it was a dumb question but maybe he could.

Groaning, he slowly sat up; which was pretty good considering he was injured and in a lot of pain. Irene then moved and wrapped her arm around his waist, before moving his arm around her shoulders. "Keep your weight off your left leg," She said, nodding to his injured leg.

And with great effort and confidence, Irene helped Sherlock to his feet, well foot. He kept one leg off the ground and holding onto Irene; he leapt as she walked. She opened the door to the flight of stairs and very carefully helped him down and once they were on ground floor she went down the hall, where the back exit was. Hearing the word 'Police' and phrase 'Police are here' made Irene hurry down the hall to the exit.

Once there, she kicked open the exit door and helped him out, arriving at a back alley.

"Where are you taking me, woman?" Sherlock asked, feeling tired and in pain.

"To the doctor's office." Said Irene with a small grin, as she helped him to the street. Waving down a hansom, she opened the door and helped him in where they both sat down; Sherlock's injured leg upon her lap. After giving him the address, the driver signaled the horses and they were off.


End file.
